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Summary:

Amroth has been saved beyond hope, and now the Lords of the West must tread lightly lest Sauron sunder the Alliance ere they come to Mordor yet hope may come from ones even older than the Elves, and amidst war love shall bloom ever bright.

Notes:

Sorry for the delay I've come down with covid again and I fear this chapter isn't up to my usual standard but I hope you enjoy it, please leave a comment I love hearing from you

Chapter Text

Glorfindel (The days prior)

They rode on to the fen stretching away southwards, mists curled and smoked about them from dark noisome pools. The air hung heavy with the stench of rot; all about them were the signs of the Silvan's revenge, the marshes choked by the corpses of the slain, fair elves and cruel orcs.

The silence was broken suddenly by the call of great horns and answering horns and harsh howls, and the fierce cries of battle they had found the Amroth's host.

"Let us hasten Glorfindel! The Orcs are near, and I fear we shall be too late," said Círdan, beside him, his eye's alight with dread and woe.

"Aye, old friend, come the sounds of battle grow nearer; let us hope that the host of Lorien have not been brought to ruin", answered Glorfindel, spurring Asfaloth onwards.

The army hastened their pace, but many were slowed by the mire brought forth by the spring rains and the blood of the slain. The sounds of battle drew ever near, and then from among the mud some dozen Orcs that had lain motionless among the slain leapt to their feet, hoping to pull them from their horses; alas, woe befell the Orcs for these were Noldorin steeds hardy and proud, they stamped, bite and crushed the orcs underfoot and soon the orcs were scattered retreating further into the marsh.

"Now it begins..." said Círdan wearily, He cast back his cloak, flashed out his sword, and the silver and blue of Lindon gleamed on him as he thundered into the orcs like the crashing of waves upon the shore.

"Blood and spite, the Elves have come again!" cried an orc captain, and those who remained turned to meet their untried foes.

Glorfindel rose in his stirrups. "Come elves of the West!" he cried, and drew his sword, and it flashed as silvered flame. "Gurth an Glamhoth! For the love of the woods and the children of fair Yavanna!"

Then with a great cry the Noldor charged; the light gleamed as silver upon mail and spear. The Orcs wailed in terror and shot all the arrows that remained to them. Though good fortune for the darts of Mordor were poor, and the line held true, thrice, they rode through the Orcish horde, skewering them upon lance and spear. Soon the onslaught of Mordor broke the Orcs and dashed off, over a hundred of them, running wildly along the marsh towards the lands of Shadow.

Thus, the battle of the marshes was won, yet Glorfindel would not name it so; all about him were bodies uncounted, the pride of the Goldenwood brought to ruin by the folly of Amdír.

Glorfindel dismounted his horse and cried aloud in a great voice, "Make haste; we must find Amdír and Amroth if they yet live!"

From amid the Silvan a figure appeared; it was Prince Amroth. "Lord Glorfindel! By Yavanna, it is good fortune that you came when you did," he cried. "Alas! tis cruel fate that we have suffered so greatly for our folly."

"Prince Amroth, thank the Valar you are safe," said Glorfindel, looking at the young prince before him; he had no helm, and about his head was a linen band stained with blood. 

"Lord Glorfindel…On behalf of my people, I thank you for coming to our aid," Amroth said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"We may speak of such pleasantries later, my Prince; for now, where is your father? Does he yet live?" asked Glorfindel, and a glimmer of anguish shone in Amroth's eyes.

"My father...He...He is dead, and died well; alas, fortune has turned against us, for we know not where his body lay," said Amroth, bent with anguish. "And now the Kingship falls to me, the last of the Goldenwood,"

Glorfindel bowed his head to his tears. "It is as I feared I should've waylaid him perhaps or made him see reason", he sighed. "And now through his foolishness Amdír is dead and laid upon you a burden none should bear,"

"Do not pity us, my Lord... for valour trumped sound mind, and we have paid dearly for it", said Amroth, and sat as if bowed in grief.

Glorfindel embraced him. "Do not dwell on your grief, my Lord; all fair things must fade whether by the sword or the weight of years... there was no evil in your father nor Oropher, merely courage beyond hope, now come Jon went in search of Thranduil, and we'd be foolish to linger," 

Amroth smiled. "Oh, thank Ilúvatar...I hope that Prince Thranduil and his father have fared better than us," 

"May your prayers hold true... now come Amroth, we must gather what is left of your people and make haste to the Dagorlad", said Glorfindel; Amroth nodded and set about collecting the arms of the slain and killing any orcs who yet lived.

That battle had lasted for days beyond count, and though the Silvan triumphed, there would be no song of victory, for their losses were more grievous than they need have been. Thus had passed, Amdír King of the Goldenwood, along with many of his kin.

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(The Dead Marshes after the battle of the south)

The Orcs were piled in great heaps far from the graves of the Silvan, though few yet lived to carry out the bitter work, and the evening rang with the lament of the Elves; alas, the heaps of carrion were too great for burial or for burning. They had little wood for fires, so many Elves were left where they fell, faces proud and fair yet dead for the folly of their King and valour beyond need.

"Have the last of them been buried then?" said Círdan, coming to Glorfindel's side. 

"Yes, but alas, the cost of such folly was too great," said Glorfindel as he saw the Silvan setting the heads of the Orc captains upon stakes and offering prayers to their fallen kin.

Círdan looked upon his woodland kin with pity. "It is a shame that the King of Lorien should perish!" he said. "But, alas, Amdír fell from wisdom into folly, going needlessly into the net of Sauron; let him go now to the Halls of the Doomsman in honour and peace," 

"Aye, tis a great evil to at last glimpse the walls of the black land and be slain so thanklessly. Still, my heart is heavy, and we must flee this place," said Glorfindel, tossing another orc into a shallow pool.

"Yes, you are right, Glorfindel," Círdan admitted worriedly.

"We shall give them an hour to mourn their kin; we should not linger lest the enemy sends forth more Orcs to waylay us," said Glorfindel and passed his hand over his eyes, dashing away the tears.

"The Silvan shall not be well pleased to abandon their kin to the rot of this swamp", grumbled Círdan.

"They should have thought of that before rushing headlong into battle," growled Glorfindel.

"Yes, you are quite right; I'll do my best to marshal those who remain. Let us hope that Gil-galad shall be merciful," said Círdan wearily.

Glorfindel said nothing, watching King Amroth as one would a son.

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Days after…

The battle against the orcs had raged for many days now, though by good fortune, the Silvan had returned to the camp in good order. But, alas, the hordes of Mordor were pitiless coming day and night; the armies had taken it in turn to meet the orcs so as to keep the best of their strength for the assault upon the Morannon. It was after one such skirmish that Jon staggered into the camp, covered in grime, and sweat, and orc blood.

"By the Valar, these Orcs are stubborn foes", grumbled Jon. "Let us pray that we may set them to flight soon, or we shall have to batter down the Black Gate with dulled swords and our hands."

Even as Jon spoke, he felt a great malice bent upon him and a deadly regard considering him, and he knew Sauron's eye was upon him.

"Long have you hunted me, long have I eluded you, but no longer! Ready yourself, oh servant of the Great Enemy, for you shall know the wroth of the dragon," thought Jon, his gaze cast upon Barad-dûr .

"Bold words, husband, but take care, lest the Lord of Mordor turns his malice upon you," said a sweet voice and Jon, startled, turned to see Galadriel, her glittering mail and cloak now caked with orcish blood and mud, with her too came Rhaenys, Daenerys and Arya weary though in good spirits.

Jon lamented that those he loved must bear the horrors of battle, yet as he looked upon them, pride stirred within him, for these fair maidens had borne such love for him that they followed him into peril, not for want of glory or pridefulness but faithfulness.

"I am pleased that you are gladdened by our coming, my wolf," said Galadriel "your sister proved herself many times over in these dark days; such was their valour that she and Daenerys thought to wager who might slay the most Orcs, alas they are tied for the moment."

Jon smiled grimly. "Aye, it fills my heart with joy to see you all unhurt," he said. "Though I wish you not have to endure such peril for my sake, that we might spend our days in peace,"

"So do I... my wolf," said Galadriel, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

"What are you doing, Jon?" asked Arya, eyeing him questioningly.

"He's conversing with Galadriel through their thoughts", growled Rhaenys, looking suspiciously at Galadriel. 

Galadriel scowled. "Nay, good sister," she said. "I merely told Jon of your valour in battle, though perhaps we can speak of it later if you wish to join Jon and me in our tent."

He swiftly stepped between them, and it was then the malice left him; it seemed something had drawn the Lord of Mordor's gaze.

"It's for the best, Jon; Sauron also had watched us and had long prepared against our stroke, and though he is not yet so mighty that he above fear, the suspicion of you ever gnaws at him," said Galadriel, and there was wisdom in her words, yet fear as well for she knew well the cruelty of the enemy.

"Oh, by the Valar, why must you speak in riddles?" Arya asked without courtesy, very annoying and jealous of Galadriel at that time.

"Arya…Sauron is a being of malevolence who wishes dominion over all under his regard. For centuries now, we have defied him, made certain his allies were brought low and assailed his places of strength; though we stand upon his doorstep, the Lord of Mordor is ever scheming, and I've little doubt he has made plans to slay me ere we enter his lands," said Jon grimly, his gaze drawn once more to the Morannon, while his loves exchanged worrying glances.

"Are you sure, Jon?" asked Daenerys worriedly. 

"Yes, Dany… the Lord of Mordor has long wished my servitude or, better yet, my death," said Jon, embracing her in kind and kissing her brow.

Then it seemed darkness fell suddenly, and their countenance became stern as stone; Sauron had robbed them of Jon once, and it was only by the grace of the Valar he had returned; it could not happen again.

"Let us take an oath," said Galadriel sternly. She turned towards the girls, and they looked in wonder at her, standing proud and mighty as a daughter of King's.

Rhaenys scowled for a moment. "An oath?" she said, "What oath shall we make with you, Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin?"

"An oath for one whom we love, young dragon," said Galadriel, glancing at Jon. "The Dark Lord has taken our wolf from us once, or have you forgotten the siege of Angrenost?"

There was a heavy silence. Rhaenys made no answer; her eyes alight with fear and despair. Daenerys frowned, and looked at her niece; and at last spoke:

"You do well to not speak of that day, Galadriel! We remember it well; my beloved nephew was robbed of his life by Khamûl, Valar curse him! However, by the love we share, Jon was returned to us, and we have enjoyed many happy years together, yet even now you seek to be first in his heart, always driving him from us, so tell me Galadriel why should we swear an oath to you who hold so little regard for us as to try and take Jon?"

Galadriel paused a while and sighed. "I beg your forgiveness even if I do not deserve it," she said. "For many long years, I thought my love for Celeborn was the sweetest I might know; never have I made a greater Mistake! In truth, the love we shared wilted, and were it not for Celebrian, I cannot rightly say we might have stayed together save for duty and tradition; when I met Jon, it was as if my heart rang true; alas I was ashamed, ashamed knowing that the misfortune my people suffered for such things... but I would not be denied! I hold a place in Jon's heart, as do each of you. I know I seem your enemy. Yet, I do not wish it to be so any longer; this is a fellowship we shall take for ourselves, shields against all hurt... to protect our wolf and the love we share."

Silence fell again. Jon glanced at Galadriel and felt a great love in his heart. Rhaenys stirred, and Jon looked at her. She was fingering Dramborleg and frowning. At length she spoke.

"Those are pretty words Galadriel, but how do we know that you shall keep this oath?" she said. "Long have we played this game of cat and mouse with you and Írimë, each time you have lorded your dominion over us as if our for Jon is any less than yours, we have endured your japes and jabs, but now you wish to make amends what has changed?"

Galadriel cast down her proud eyes. "Long have been my winters, young dragon, and longer still they shall be," she said. "But now we go to war, my mind is consumed by thoughts of Angrenost and Celeborn; I do not wish others to suffer as I did nor to lose my true love. I shall not think our relationship might be mended in a day nor a year, but I wish for us to live our days in peace."

Daenerys stepped forward. "I shall offer my bow to you then, Lady of Edhellond, to be your shield as you will be mine," she said. "Let this be a union of houses that shall endure hereafter,"

"So it shall be," said Galadriel, "You are bold as you are wise Daenerys. And though there has been strife between us, never let it be said that the house of Targaryen and Finarfin lack common purpose." And they clasped hand in hand before the others who eyed them in astonishment.

"What of you, she-wolf?" said Galadriel, turning to Arya. "Shall we make our counsels together against evil days, and repair our injuries with such goodwill that our lives shall both come to fairer flower than ever before?"

Arya opened her mouth as if to speak, but she said nothing. She looked upon Galadriel with dark, solemn eyes.

"I will," said Arya at last. "For the love, I bear this land and my cousin, I shall have this oath for it is one of valour and rightness. I name you my sister in love and battle, Galadriel of Edhellond, but take heart for such courtesy has never been so lightly given, and to break such an oath is a crime cruller than the mercies of the enemy,"

All eyes then turned to Rhaenys, who looked upon them with uncertainty and the others waited for her to speak. "Very well!" said Rhaenys, eyes glittering in hope. "We have been at odds for many years, but you are right. I shall forgive your slights, for my brother loves you as I love him; let us share this passion and the days of peace."

And so, they each, in turn, swore an oath to guard against the darkness and to remain true to each other such as had been taken by Tuor and Beren, though not an oath bound by Eru, Jon and the girls knew to receive such an oath from Galadriel was near as good.

"Are you well, brother? Of late, you've seemed grim and wistful," said Rhaenys glancing towards him, a most knowing look in her shining eyes.

"I am in good spirits, dear sister, better still for the oath we have taken, yet my mind is ever on Mordor and what horrors we shall meet once we enter that accursed place," said Jon, eyeing the Black Gate looming beyond in the gloom.

"Oh…" said Arya, and a look of fear came upon her face, no doubt remembering the warning that Isildur had given her ere they departed Rivendell.

"Don't be afraid…" said Jon, ruffling her hair, and Arya swatted his arm.

"Fool", grumbled Arya, kissing his cheek and smiling once more.

"Now, my ladies, perhaps it would be wise to return to camp; seldom will these lands be silent now the enemy knows we are camped outside his gate," said Galadriel, eager for food and rest.

The allied armies had encamped near the Black Gate, in part to save them the long march and so as not to be taken unawares by the Orcs that now roamed the countryside; the Silvan had tried to make amends with their Noldorin kin, alas some hates run too deep worse still was Thranduil who now seemed withered by grief. 

"To bear the burden of Kingship so young, tis a cruel fate that I have visited upon him," thought Jon. "I only hope he shall forgive me for what I had done,"

"Don't worry, my Wolf; he is weary now and grieved for the loss of his father. But such evils shall be mended, Thranduil's grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom," said Galadriel sagely.

"Yes, my Star, you're right, yet my heart is heavy with grief... I left Oropher among the slain, and none shall know of his valour save Thranduil and those who remain," said Jon, half chanting the words, shaking his head sadly and solemnly.

"Do not weep for the dead, my wolf, rather cherish those who yet stay... I fear we shall have to attend another council mores the pity I'd hope to spend some time with you before the next skirmish", grumbled Galadriel.

"I know, alas, our duties cannot so carelessly be put aside," chortled Jon, and then he groaned, feeling Galadriel's displeasure at his cheek.

"Hush! Though I've sworn to cease meddling with your family does not mean I enjoy us being parted... you will come to my tent tonight, you may bring them if you wish, but I will not suffer such indemnity any longer," growled Galadriel, her eyes glinting in love and wrath.

"By the Valar! You need not be so cruel, my star; we shall spend time together ere we set off again," said Jon, hoping to quell his wife's wrath, and at once she smiled as if nought had happened.

They began making their way back to the camp when a thunderous boom rent the silence, and for a moment, they glanced back. Darkness lay there under the Sun. Fire glowed amid the smoke. Mount Doom was burning, and the Lord of the Dark Tower marshalled his armies for war.

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(Forward camp of the Dagorlad sometime later)

They came upon the camp and were welcomed by the scent of sweet smoke; it seemed the healers had brought great bushels of Athelas and were treating those who had just returned from battle, though the Silvan kept to themselves for the grief of their loss was great and none could offer comfort.

They exchanged few pleasantries with the soldiery as they passed but knew to make haste to the meeting. Upon entering the pavilion, the faces that greeted them were wearied. Elrond was there, as well as Elendil and Gil-galad. Magni was conversing with Durin, and in a corner sat Thranduil nursing a silvan wine judging by the heady aroma wafting from the goblet, it seemed the only ones absent were Glorfindel and Círdan who had yet to return from their leaguer south.

"Ah, Lady Galadriel, Jon, Daenerys, Rhaenys, and lastly, Arya is with you good…we were just about to send a messenger to fetch you," said Isildur, who was weary but in good spirits.

"There was no need, my Lord. I had guessed your purpose and thought it wise to fetch Jon before your soldiery roped him into a contest of blowing smoke rings," said Galadriel, bowing low; this caused many to laugh, and Jon's face reddened, but he said nothing, knowing it would do little good.

"Your wisdom will save us time, my Lady…Now please help us find the way to go through the Black Gate," grumbled Durin, running a whetstone alone the head of his axe.

Galadriel smiled. "I am flattered to know you hold me in such high esteem," she said. "Though I am not sure what answer I may give that would be right, I've little knowledge of sieges or the building of such things. Sauron holds mastery here, and none have surpassed his craft save Aulë himself," 

"Then we shall keep to our current plan?" asked Elrond, glancing at the dwarves, who frowned.

"We've begun building our siege craft, but it is no simple task! There is little lumber to be had, and we cannot send for more unless we intend to wait the better part of a year... we'd thought to send axemen to Fangorn as well, but there is a terror upon those woods, and none dare to walk beneath the eves" grumbled Magni, stroking his beard.

"Is there news of Lord Círdan and Glorfindel?" asked Jon, and the mood darkened, filling him with a crushing dread,

"Yes, Jon, they sent a letter some days ago; they found Prince Amroth, but alas, for evil fortune has befallen us, King Amdír perished alongside a third of Silvan who marched with him," said Elendil grimly.

Jon bowed his head to hide his tears. "It was a foolish hope that Amdír should live," he sighed, "Another evil claims us, it seems, alas my words were not spoken with tenderness nor care, and now two Kings lie dead and many more Elves whose shall not return." 

Then Thranduil rose from his seat and embraced him and said: "It was our folly that brought us such grief Jon, do not think yourself to blame for the foolishness of my father nor of Amdír. Your counsel was wise and spoken with love, but alas my kin are most stubborn and seldom ask for help even if freely given; I bear you no ill feelings, my friend, so I ask you do not bear this burden as if it is your own."

"Thank you...Prince Thranduil, or shall I name you King?" said Jon, unsure how to address the prince of the Greenwood.

"Prince is fine old friend... I've no desire to take up my father's sceptre until the war has ended," said Thranduil, and his green eyes flashed. "Though I shall not forgive you for whisking me away from the battle while my father yet lay among the slain, I fear he will rest amid the fens alas a cruel end for Oropher the bold."

"Forgive me, Thranduil..." Jon said apologetically, "I had hoped to honour your father as was his wish, but I feared that we would be slowed in our escape if we had taken his body."

"I understand, Jon, but it's better to forget about it for now," said Thranduil, once more looking over the maps laid before them.

Galadriel laughed. "It seems though a lesson is learned the proudness of the Silvan has not been dimmed... my wolf," 

"Well, then I think it best we should march as a single army, or Sauron shall bloody us with skirmishes and raids," said Isildur.

"I agree; my people have learned our lesson dearly, we shall proudly march alongside our kin just as we did in the days of Thingol, but the Silvan shall demand vengeance for those slain by the Orcs, and I will not deny them," said Thranduil, his eyes glinting with a fierce light.

"I am pleased to know you shall set aside your hatred for my kin, though I pray you heed my commands and arm yourselves for open war," said Gil-galad sternly.

"Indeed... those of my men who survived have requested swords and spears of steel; it seems through despair they have learned the value of bitter steel," answered Thranduil, knowing the matter was beyond argument.

"Their deaths will be avenged…" said Elendil, tone as cold as steel.

"We will have to arm them properly for war, and therein lies our problem; we've no fuel for the fires nor the material needed to build such forges; I might be able to send runners up the Anduin, but such activity will not go unnoticed," said Durin, stroking his beard.

"We have spare weapons… not in great stock, mind you... but they should more than suffice until such a time as we are provided with new supplies," added Robar, with a glance at Thranduil.

"We shall make do with whatever is offered," said Thranduil.

"Now that that has been resolved, we must begin preparing for our march on the Black Gate," said Gil-galad.

"Should we not wait for Lord Glorfindel and Círdan to return?" asked Jon, glancing at Gil-galad, who frowned.

"No, young Prince... Sauron knows of our comings and goings and has no doubt laid more traps," answered Gil-galad. "I fear the longer we are waylaid by the soldiery of the Dark Lord, will give him time to prepare," 

"Gil-galad speaks rightly, Jon though it grieves me to say it, we cannot delay," said Elendur. Jon nodded but gave no answer.

Far into the dark quiet hours, they debated much, drawing up the lines of battle, taking a tally of the losses suffered and making sure all was ready for the coming fighting. In the end, it was decided for the moment that no great sortie be led; instead, it was agreed that they should wait for Amroth's return, and once the Silvan were girded with steel, they would march upon the Black Gate.

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After the Council, they took their leave of the pavilion, each going to wherever they might; Jon saw the shadow looming slowly out of the East, eating up the faint blurred stars.

As he strolled through the camp, Jon heard snatches of conversation. The men of Gondor seemed to be in high spirits, doubly so the Dwarves who were drinking and smoking; he was tempted to join them but knew he'd never hear the end of it.

He came to his tent at last and entered, swiftly removing his armour and setting Ringil on a table before settling into a comfortable chair and pouring a generous draught of wine.

After an hour or two, there came a soft rustling from the entrance of his tent, and in ambled Arya and Daenerys, both looking quite pleased they were clad in heavy cloaks of fur that hide everything to the neck, and he wondered what they might have planned.

Jon rose from his chair and gave them each a kiss. "Hello, my loves. I did not think to find you here so soon. I'd thought you might be off with Rhaenys thinking how best to double cross Galadriel."

Daenerys laughed. "How rude nephew!" she said. "Did you doubt the sincerity of my words or think so little of us that we should spoil the evening?"

Jon smiled. "No, my silver dragon, tis merely a jest!" he said, "It is better we should take what happiness we can so near the end of our journey."

"Don't be so cruel, Jon..." said Arya. "We've come all this way to spend time with you, or perhaps you should like us to leave? I'm certain your books are much better company."

"No, I'm pleased you are here. I shall always delight in your presence; never let that be doubted, for you are as dearer to me than the stars of Valinor."

"Foolish, ever foolish, my love..." said Arya, her face reddening, then with a smile, she slipped off the cloak of fur, unveiling a grey silken nightgown that glimmered in the light of the hearth; his aunt laughed and likewise revealed her own gown of turquoise.

"Beautiful, truly beautiful," said Jon. "I am blessed that you love me as you do, for it is more than I deserve." both women grinned, and Arya swiftly captured his lips in a passionate kiss; when they parted Daenerys swooped in and kissed him as well though her touch was far more tender.

Arya purred before grasping Daenerys's arse, drawing her into a heated kiss, hoping to arouse their lover further with such a debaucherous display. Jon swiftly tossed aside his breeches, before looking up once more. Seeing his cousin and Daenerys passionately kissing, their bosom pressed together, hands roaming their beautiful forms. He stepped forward, joining them in a fiery embrace soon; his tongue danced with both of theirs in a heated three-way kiss.

Daenerys separated from the pair, watching her lover and Arya give into their wolfish blood; it was beautiful to watch as the two Starks made love, their passion fierce as dragons fire.

Arya smiled, her grey eyes glittering in lust. "Come, Jon; I wish to taste your cock." 

Jon lay on his bed, his cock standing proud as a flowering Weirwood. Arya eagerly hopped on the bed and peeled off her shift, bearing her lovely bosom; Jon came forward and took one in his mouth. Arya fell on him, pushing her chest out so he would give each attention, then came Daenerys, who tore off Arya's small clothes and buried her face in his cousin's wet cunt.

Arya was caught between two dragons, straddling himself as he sucked upon her bosom and peppered her neck with kisses; all the while, Daenerys feasted upon her cunt like a starving woman; needless to say, Arya was vocal in her fondness for such things.

Jon ceased sucking Arya's bosom and offered Daenerys encouragement, "Go on, Daenerys, I'm sure Arya would enjoy your tender touch."

Daenerys laughed lustily, gently nipping at the young Starks pearl, drawing her tongue in long strokes from hood to slit, giving Arya pleasure as she had never known. With the blend of Daenerys's tongue, Arya was swiftly nearing her peak. Knowing her undoing was looming, Jon flipped his cousin onto the bed and joined Daenerys between Arya's legs, eager to taste her essence.

Indeed, had any walked into his chambers, they would be welcomed by a sinful sight, their Prince claiming his cousin and aunt like whores in a brothel they alternated between devouring Arya's cunt and kissing Daenerys. Rather, Arya lay there enthralled by the sight of them lovingly kissing their faces slick with her juices.

"Daenerys, I believe you promised to suck my cock..." said Jon, his heart thundering in his chest.

"Come then, Jon, let us see how sweet your essence is," Daenerys said, kissing him before pushing him against the bed; Daenerys pulled Arya towards him, and he kissed her once more before resting against the head of his bed, legs spread once more.

Daenerys at last discarded her shift as well, bearing her bountiful bosom, Jon rushed forward, yet Daenerys held a hand to his chest, Arya giggled it seemed Jon was overcome with lust.

Daenerys gently pushed him back with a devious smile. "No, my dragon, you wished us to suck your cock, or mayhaps I misheard you?"

Jon, far bolder than he once was, smiled. "Aye, how can I help myself when such beauties lay before me." Daenerys dragged Arya next to her before laying between his legs; they lay utterly still, teasing Jon's cock, cruelly trapped in his small clothes.

Jon's eyes were clouded with lust, as Daenerys and Arya neared his cock, the two toiling together to tease him with their bodies. Jon felt his cock leaking pre-cum, and soon his small clothes were soiled; it seemed his lovers took notice as well.

"You wish for our mouths, dear cousin?" Arya taunted, cupping his cock, trailing kisses down his chest before planting one on his soiled small clothes. 

"By the Valar, don't torment me... Daenerys... Arya, please before you wake the wolf!" The two exchanged a smug look, reaching up and removing his small clothes. The two shared a fierce kiss, unhurriedly peeling his small clothes down, all the while peppering his chest with kisses.

When they looked upon Jon, they were filled with fierce love knowing such beauty was theirs alone eager to be sheathed inside something warm. 

"Tonight, we shall seal our love, he has no other just his Dragon Queen and wolf maiden." Arya kissed around his groin, careful to avoid the cock and balls. Daenerys came forward as well, mimicking Arya, his cock resting between their faces. Soon his cock was unbending, and his cum fell as raindrops.

Jon groaned heartily. "By the Valar enough teasing," he said. "I beg you, I'm close!" 

Daenerys grinned, nuzzling the underside of his cock. "Aye, I know you yearn to sheathe yourself in me, Jon; my dragon, my sweet nephew, the man who stole my heart," she kissed him again." None shall have me but you" Daenerys was swiftly silenced as Jon groaned heatedly and spilt his essence all over her face.

Jon slumped backwards, chest heaving, and he closed his eyes. Once he opened them, he was surprised to see Arya and Daenerys sharing a tender kiss. Wearily, Jon laughed. "It seems I have given my Queen a crown of love and beauty," 

Daenerys laughed in kind, rather amusing as her face was still wet with his seed. "Don't worry, my bold wolf, you taste as sweet as honeyed milk." She then left the bed, likely going to find the privy. 

Arya laughed, her eyes shining with love. "Alas, you come undone so swiftly, cousin; perhaps old age is catching up to you?" she teased.

Jon laughed. "Nay, yet when faced with such beauty, how can a humble man not come undone."

"Mmmm... Are you confident you can handle us both?" Arya moaned merrily.

Arya leaned forward, pressing her slender body into his, her small bosom flattening on his hard chest, she captured his lips in another heated kiss. "Oh, we are far from done, Jon; I hope you last longer." 

Jon laughed heartily, "Bold words, my beautiful she-wolf." he said. "Yet that tongue shall be your undoing." He reached down and cupped her petite arse, his long fingers tracing around her rosebud. "Oh, does my dear cousin like my arse?" she said, peppering his face with kisses. 

"Aye, I do mayhaps I should bury my face between your buttocks or bend you over a fuck you raw." 

Arya giggled, "My, My, cousin so eager for our touch?" giving him a tender kiss.

The two heard Daenerys rummaging about, no doubt searching for a rag; Arya winked at him, "What say I make you hard again, so when Daenerys returns, we may continue our lovemaking." 

Jon smiled gaily, "I think that is a rather good idea." The two shared another kiss. Arya then pressed herself down his body, making certain he felt her lovely bosom, Jon thrust his between them, and soon his cock hardened.

Arya wrapped her dainty hands around the base and began stroking. Jon groaned in appreciation, feeling his cousin's delicate hands pleasuring his cock swiftly had him at full mast, thickening ever more in her hands. She kissed and licked his cock, coating it in a sheen of spit and bringing him even more pleasure. 

"By the Valar my she-wolf, your touch is sweet as summer's wind!" 

Evidently pleased by his encouragement, Arya brought the tip of his cock to her pouty lips, sloppily worshipping it, the combination of salvia and his own essence, allowing her to stroke him swiftly as she continued to pleasure him with her mouth. 

"Look at me, Arya," Jon said heatedly, her grey eyes met his own violet; Arya smiled and stuck out her tongue, revealing his swollen cock head between her perfect lips.

Alas, Jon's eyes were torn from her when Daenerys returned, her small clothes gone, revealing a small silver thatch atop her cunt, Jon was enthralled by the beauty of his Wildling maiden. "Ah, it seems you continued without me?" Arya said nothing, contenting herself with pleasuring his cock, so Jon answered, "No, Daenerys, merely waiting so you can share in the prize." Daenerys smiled and leaned down, taking one of his nipples into her mouth, rising to his face and kissing him before lying next to Arya.

Daenerys swiftly took over from Arya, grabbing his cock and drawing the tip into her mouth; Jon ran his hand through her honeyed locks, imploring her to swallow more of his shaft while Arya was content to lick his stones.

"You want to fuck us, Nephew? hmm, do you want to conquer us as a Wolf or perhaps a dragon?" Jon could hardly reply, so consumed by his pleasure, he merely nodded; Daenerys gave his cock one last lick before drawing Arya into another kiss, Jon embraced Daenerys, whispering sweet nothing into her ear, all the while his fingers slid inside her maidenhood.

"Arya, sit on my cock; I wish to feel your warmth," Jon growled. Arya reddened but nonetheless did as she was told. "Mmmm, our kin needy for the touch is his lady loves," Daenerys taunted, reaching down to grasp Jon, stroking him a few more times before directing it towards Arya's maidenhood.

Daenerys grinned, with a hand on his cock and the other on Arya's thighs, lined them up so she could watch as her nephew made love to Arya.

Jon thrusted into Arya with eagerness, her pert arse slapping against his thighs. Daenerys watched as Jon claimed another woman; it lit a fire in her belly, and soon her fingers were teasing the lips of her womanhood. Jon and Arya coupled like beasts; soon, his thighs were stained with her juices, and he thrust ever more forcefully. 

"Fuck me, Jon, By the Valar, claim me like a fucking Wolf!" hearing Arya's cries of pleasure, Jon smiled and brought his hand down upon her pert arse. His cousin wailed in pleasure, staining his groin in her juices before slumping forward, utterly spent.

Arya slid off his cock and lay beside him, face flushed, hair a mess and beaming happily. Jon thought to say something, but she swiftly fell asleep, leaving him with Daenerys.

Jon looked over and saw Daenerys, her buxom arse turned upward, her dripping maidenhood bared to the world. Jon leaned down and licked her maidenhood from pearl to arse, savouring the sweet taste of her juices; he rose and lined his cock with her cunt, teasing her folds as not to cause her discomfort, then at last, he slid inside, Daenerys clenched around him, bidding him go deeper and soon his cock was hilted in Daenerys's warm cunt.

Jon knew not how long they made love, rutting like animals; there was no hole he did not claim, and Daenerys was far bolder tonight, drowning him in her honeyed nectar until at last Jon howled in joy, filling his beloved aunt with his seed, soon she slid off him neither said a word and was fast asleep a smile on her lovely face, Jon smiled and drew the covers over them.

"Sleep well, my loves," thought Jon.

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After making certain his loves wouldn't be troubled, Jon departed his tent and began making his way through the camp careful not to draw the attention of the soldiers or, worse yet, his sister, Rhaenys would no doubt wish him to spend the evening with her, and after what happened with Arya and Daenerys, Jon would've taken her up on the offer, it seems the old saying the dragons are drawn to one another rang true.

"Let us hope Galadriel shall renege on her convictions," thought Jon as he, at last, came to the silvery tent of his wife; two guards stood at either side of the doorway, upon noticing him, they bowed and bid him pass, the tent was much as he remembered spacious, with comfortable furniture and a roaring hearth.

In the centre of the tent, clad in raiments of white and silver was Galadriel; she was brushing her golden tresses and humming a sweet tune.

"My Wolf..." said Galadriel cheerily; she rose from her stool and embraced him, laying a soft kiss upon his brow.

"It seems the wisest of the Noldor is nought but an impatient maiden," laughed Jon, and Galadriel reddened and cuffed him about the head.

"Oh, that hurts," Jon grumbled.

"Serves you right, foolish wolf of mine", said Galadriel before returning to her stool and pouring herself a cup of wine.

"I'm here, my Star... I suppose you have planned some delights for the evening," said Jon, smiling.

"Yes, my wolf... though it seems you have indulged in such delights before coming here," said Galadriel enviously, and Jon whitened, wondering how she might have known.

"Yes, my star though I hope you shall not begrudge me when it was you who aroused their ire lo these many years," said Jon uneasily, hoping that he could soothe Galadriel's ire. 

Then Galadriel laughed merrily. "Yes, my wolf, I swore an oath and intend to keep it," said Galadriel still laughing. "Still, it warms my heart knowing we might share this time together", 

Jon looked at her and smiled. "So, what have you planned for the evening, my star?" he asked.

"I requested for supper and wine to be brought to us...After that my guards shan't bother us for the rest of the evening," said Galadriel merrily; she kissed him again before offering him a draught of juice which he took gladly.

"Shall I play you a tune while we wait for our supper, my star?" asked Jon.

"Please...though I fear I shall not dance for you as I did that night, my wolf," said Galadriel sweetly.

"Tis a pity," said Jon, embracing her from behind and peppering her neck with lovebites.

"Jon be patient; my guards could return any moment," groaned Galadriel. "Let us wait till after supper, my wolf, please."

Jon looked at her and smiled. "Perhaps I wish them to catch us, my star," he said. "You are ever fair even in the heat of anger."

"You think so, my Wolf?" growled Galadriel, her eyes glinting in offence, but Jon embraced her, knowing her anger was but an act.

"Your passion burns hot as dragons fire my star", said Jon, caressing her face; Galadriel smiled and leaned into his touch, her eyes sparkling with adoration.

"Ah...do you think so, dear brother?" said a familiar voice.

They turned to greet the newcomer and saw it was Rhaenys standing in the doorway clad in nought but a heavy cloak, a lantern in her hand.

"Rhae…" mumbled Jon in surprise, while Galadriel glared at her, displeased at the thought of being interrupted.

"Rhaenys Targaryen? By the Valar, has no one ever told you to knock?" said Galadriel angrily. "Why have you come here? Does Elendil have need of us?"

"Indeed I have; no council has been called. I merely wished to spend time with my brother," said Rhaenys, casting off her cloak, revealing a beautiful dress of lilac and silver; about her waist was a belt of silver and the golden ring he had given her many years ago, his elder sister was a vision of majesty, and none could tell him otherwise.

Rhaenys strolled over, taking Jon's arm in her own, reaching to undo the button of his robe, yet before she could persist, Galadriel stepped forward tall and fell; a light like flame was in her eyes she was wroth.

"Get out…" growled Galadriel. 

"No... You swore an oath to not act foolishly when it concerns Jon... So, I thought it best we should spend time together," said Rhaenys, then she did something entirely unexpected, wrapping her arms around Galadriel's neck and kissed the elf with heedless passion.

As they parted, Rhaenys saw her brother staring at her in amazement while Galadriel stood there, eyes wide, her face flushed as an apple.

"Rhae…why are you doing this?" cried Jon in surprise.

"Tis no great evil", thought Jon, and then groaned when Galadriel cuffed his head.

Rhaenys muttered under her breath. "We swore an oath, brother, and though I doubt I'll ever see eye to eye with the witch in Imladris, I think Galadriel and I might become friends,"

Jon stared at her for a moment and then pinched her cheek.

"Oooh!" Rhaenys yelled.

"Rhaenys…" groaned Jon.

"Yes, by the Valar, don't pinch brother, it hurts!" cried Rhaenys, angrily massaging her cheek and glaring at her brother.

"As it should…. what would possess you to do something so bold?" asked Jon.

"Ah, it is as I said," growled Rhaenys. "I thought it best that I should get to know Galadriel, I had hoped to speak with you first, but then I glimpsed you slinking through the camp, so I followed."

"And you thought to spoil our time together?" muttered Galadriel. 

"Nay, I come in peace... I am not cruel like your own aunt," Rhaenys said, approaching Jon and beginning to caress his face and neck while she bit her lips and her eyes were full of lust.

However, their conversation was cut short by the Galadriel's servants returning with supper. There was hot soup, cold meats, a blackberry tart, new loaves, slabs of butter, and half a ripe cheese, along with an assortment of spirits and wines.

Jon knew his sister would not leave and glanced at Galadriel for a moment, and finally she relented.

"I would appreciate it if you brought another plate and cup…I have an unexpected visitor," said Galadriel, glaring at her sister-in-arms.

Although puzzled, the servants fulfilled their Lady's orders in silence and quickly returned with another plate, goblet and chair, turning the evening into a lively supper for three.

Although Rhaenys was happy and satisfied to have stayed with them, both Ladies vied for the right to feed him subtly and without argument, Galadriel stuffing a steak into his mouth and Rhaenys giving him a drink.

Despite the tense situation, Jon really enjoyed it.

"Perhaps she is right Jon, Írimë had little care for Rhaenys, but I think she and I might get along if we aren't at odds," said Galadriel, glancing at him sweetly. 

Jon smiled, his heart filling with love. "Nothing would make me happier," he said. "I know it has been much to ask, but our love is greater than petty feuds." 

"We shall see how the evening goes," said Galadriel.

"Tis rude to ignore your guest brother," growled Rhaenys. "Perhaps you might speak plainly rather than with magic."

Galadriel laughed and raised her goblet to Rhaenys. "Let us drink then to good health and happier days." 

Rhaenys smiled and she drank, and she said. "As you say fair daughter of Finarfin, let us mend the hurts we have caused and stand together in love and peace."

The dinner went along very merrily, the light of the torches and the fire flickered about them. All the time they ate, Galadriel told them tales of her youth in Valinor and the beauty of the West, and especially of the pastures of Yavanna, that lay to the south where the wheat of Gods was grown.

After dinner, the dishes were taken away, and he fetched his harp, much to the delight of Galadriel and Rhaenys.

"Oh, brother do you intend to sing for us?" cried Rhaenys joyfully.

"Aye, sister, this day has gone better than I might have hoped," answered Jon. "I thought it best to end such a lovely evening with music."

Galadriel smiled. "Oh, a splendid idea, my wolf," she said. "Come then, play for us; seldom has a bard had such ladies as an audience."

He smiled and began to play; soon, the night was filled with sweet melodies, and so the night went on, the fire died down, and the shadows were lost, replaced by the lustre of the moon; all the while, Galadriel and Rhaenys conversed merrily, even sharing a bottle of elven wine.

Jon felt happy that his ladies were enjoying each other's company, chatting and drinking like old friends; he was about to strike another tune when Galadriel raised her hand.

"Enough, my Husband, tonight I have greatly enjoyed our time together, and your sister is a delight," said Galadriel, smiling mischievously.

"As are you, Lady Galadriel," said Rhaenys, sipping her wine.

"Thanks to the Valar… I was certain my voice might give out," grumbled Jon; he moved to pour himself another goblet when he noticed Galadriel had slipped off her slippers and laid her delicate feet in his lap. 

"Now, my Wolf... I fear that the days of battle have left me weary and aching perhaps you could ease my burden?" asked Galadriel sweetly, her eyes sparkling in lust. 

Jon smiled, running his hands along Galadriel's legs and thighs; his star was wound tighter than a bowstring, so he did his best to ease her burden, kneading her arches and soles, taking great care to undo any knots, much to Galadriel's delight.

"Oh my Wolf, your touch is blessed," said Galadriel, taking a sip of her wine.

"I am happy to ease your burdens, my star," said Jon, rising to his feet Rhaenys watched them for a while with a smile upon her lips, and then she spoke.

"I expect the same treatment, little brother," said Rhaenys, shrugging off her own slippers and smiling mischievously.

"Of course, my beloved sister," said Jon, kneeling before her and peppering her thighs and legs with kisses; his sister was just as lovely buxom, fiery a true dragon, and he loved her dearly.

"Aaahh, little brother, I always desired to have you begging at my feet," cried Rhaenys without thought. "A bold knight to serve his conquering Queen,"

Jon glanced at his sister in surprise while Galadriel giggled and peered into the girl's mind; it seemed her wolf's sister had no meekness about her, and she wondered how far the princess might go if allowed. 

"Oh, my Wolf, your sister is quite bawdy, it seems," said Galadriel, "Perhaps you might turn your attention to me now?"

"Wait your turn Galadriel... my brother has a talent for this," said Rhaenys,

"As you wish, Princess," said Galadriel, although she smiled mischievously and unhurriedly, lowering the straps of her white dress, much to her wolf's delight.

"My Star…" Jon began, but she placed a finger to his lips, silencing him and then turned her attention to Rhaenys, who had turned a remarkable shade of scarlet, whether from the wine or the warmth of the hearth, neither could not say.

Rhaenys groaned in delight as Galadriel kneaded her bosom and peppered her neck with love bites; she hadn't thought the elf would be so daring. Truly, Rhaenys had thought she might have to seduce Galadriel, but she was seducing her.

"No wonder my brother is bewitched by her…" thought Rhaenys as she relished the tender caress of Galadriel.

"I am done, sister," said Jon, rising to his feet again.

"About time…" growled Rhaenys, fisting Jon's jerkin and kissing him fiercely.

Seeing the passion shared by the two, Galadriel smiled and swiftly unlaced Jon's tunic, caressing her husband's broad chest and nipping at his neck.

Jon growled lustily and yanked his sister's dress off, revealing that she wore nothing underneath; he smiled, taking her dusky bosom in his hands and suckled from them greedily.

Galadriel was swift to act, undressing Jon and then herself; Rhaenys had heard tales of her beauty, yet to see her now bare did little just to the legends her golden tresses fell in gentle waves. Her skin pale and without blemish, she was tall and buxom, a temptation Rhaenys hadn't dared to consider but would gladly take now, for Galadriel would be hers just as she was Jon's.

"No, young dragon... you shall be conquered by the Lady of Light this day," said Galadriel, surprising Rhaenys, and the beautiful elf laughed then kissed her fiercely as Jon lavished attention on her breast.

At that moment, Rhaenys was at the mercy of her younger brother and his elven wife; they caressed and kissed her body, enflaming her passions.

Rhaenys kissed him deeply, their tongues intertwined in a heated dance; she yelped in surprise when she felt delicate hands twisting her nipples and heard Galadriel's sweet voice in her ear.

"By the Valar! Take me, brother. I am yours; I shall always be yours!" Rhaenys squealed as Jon made love to her with a zeal she had never seen; her cunt smothered his cock, not eager to let him go. She kissed him with a fiery passion, their tongues battling for dominance. Her bosom pressed against his broad chest, and her thick legs wrapped around him, not daring to let go.

Jon thrust into her with reckless abandon, and soon her screams and wails of pleasure turned to whorish moans and whines of delight, the sounds of their lovemaking echoing into the night.

"Rhaenys, you must be quieter unless you wish them to discover us," said Galadriel, sucking upon her neck, marring her bronze flesh with red welts.

Rhaenys howled in delight, any rebuttal falling on deft ears as Jon sped up his hips a blur; her brother groaned in pleasure, pulling her into a deep kiss as she felt her inside flooded with warm seed. Jon slid off her, his breathing laboured, but he smiled and gave her a soft kiss.

She looked over and saw Galadriel take her brothers' flaccid manhood, still slick with their combined essence, into her mouth. At that moment, Rhaenys understood how greatly Galadriel loved her brother; gone was the vision of the mightiest daughter of the Finwë, and in her place was a wanton elf eager to be claimed by her husband.

"Wanton, am I? Perhaps I should feast upon your cunt, young dragon," said Galadriel, glancing at Rhaenys with fierce lust.

"Now it's my turn, my Wolf," said Galadriel, straddling Jon with eager ease; she grasped his cock and eased it into her dripping maidenhood, stopping only when she felt his balls rest on her arse.

Seeing Galadriel ride her brother with such vigour, Rhaenys wrapped her arms around her torso, pressing her bosom into the elf's back. She then reached down between Galadriel's legs and began massaging her fluttering maidenhood.

Their lovemaking continued well into the night until, at last, weariness took them, and they fell onto the bed, Rhaenys on his right and Galadriel on his left sated and happy.

"That was…magnificent, my wolf," said Galadriel, kissing Jon tenderly. They lay there for several moments in silence until the soft snores of Rhaenys could be heard; it seemed such passions were too great for the princess who now clung to her as a lover.

"Oh my…" Galadriel laughed as she carefully laid Rhaenys next to him.

"She's beautiful… as she is fierce, my wolf," said Galadriel caressing Rhaenys ebon tresses.

"Yes, but my Star, you and I are not finished..." Jon said, pounced on Galadriel once more and kissed her passionately.

"Oh, my Wolf… We are finally alone, my dear husband; now we can celebrate our time together," purred Galadriel. "But the night is young, and so are we; let us make the most of it!"

And thus, they made love while Rhaenys slept, indulging their passions with reckless abandon until, in the wee hours of the morning, they joined Rhaenys in blissful slumber.

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The next morning…

The morning came, pale and clammy. Jon woke up first and found that Galadriel and Rhaenys were on either side of him, sound asleep. He smiled and kissed their heads; soon enough, his sister was awake and in good spirits.

"Good morning, brother," said Rhaneys, kissing him softly.

She stripped the blankets off and rolled out of bed, baring her nakedness to the cool morning air; Jon smiled and embraced her from behind.

"It is a beautiful morning indeed," said Jon. "Fairer still for the company I now keep."

Rhaenys turned to him and smiled. "Such flattery, brother, so lovely that your words ache," she said. "Tis sweet that you think so highly of us, but we'd best prepare for the day." 

"She is right, my wolf. The sun has nearly risen," said a voice behind them. Jon turned and saw Galadriel had woken up, her eyes glittering with passion and love.

Jon smiled and embraced them. "I have matters to attend to before the day ends," he said. "Though perhaps we might have a meal together later tonight?"

Rhaenys smiled. "Of course, brother," she said. "I was wary of last night, but it was a lovely evening."

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(Camp of the Dagorlad)

Jon made his way through the camp, hoping to find some food; by some luck, the camp cooks had prepared porridge and some meat. He quickly procured a bowl and found that Loras was now looking at him; with a wave of his hand and a nod, he invited Jon to come over and sit by him, so he settled by his brother and began to eat the spicy porridge.

"Brother, why do your aunt and cousin look as if they wish to club you about the head?" asked Loras, taking a bite of meat and porridge.

He looked past Loras, and a few feet away sat Arya and Dany, who upon noticing him, glowered angrily; it seemed they were not pleased that he had gone to see Galadriel last night.

"Valar only knows, brother?" answered Jon, gobbling down his porridge with zeal.

"Nonsense!" snorted Loras. "I imagine it has something to do with you sneaking off to see Galadriel last night."

Jon choked back a cry and sputtered, "Damn you, Loras, how might you know that?" he said. "I know no one followed me unless you've learned the art of moving unseen."

Loras laughed. "Nay brother, but there are prying eyes everywhere," he said. "And I was walking by your tent when you were leaving; it wasn't hard to guess where you might be going."

"Have a care Loras; we do not know who might be listening!" grumbled Jon.

"I'm surprised that Lady Galadriel has allowed you to have breakfast here; usually, she doesn't like you to be away from her during meals," said Loras, enjoying his brothers' misfortune.

"She has other matters to attend to, but we shall dine together tonight," said Jon; his star had remained in her tent with Rhaenys so they might get better acquainted, and while he was happy that they were bonding, his mind was drawn elsewhere.

"Where is Robar?" said Jon, hoping to calm his brother. "His place is empty, and he has not eaten."

"He took a part of the scouts, and is exploring the lands south of here," said Loras, drawing out his long stemmed pipe. "He wishes to make certain the Orcs haven't been laying traps in the night."

"Aye, they have been getting cleverer," said Jon. "But I fear this was always the enemy's intent to divide our armies before we might lay siege, and now we have lost two kings before our rams have even struck the wall."

"Robar thinks much the same... the Silvan have forced our hand... damned Elves", grumbled Loras, "I grieve for the beauty of these lands just the same, yet am not so foolish as to risk ruin to save the ashes,"

"Aye, let us hope the elves shall still be eager to fight," said Jon; it was then Daenerys and Arya appeared on either side of him; he dared not turn to meet their gaze and hoped they weren't upset by his choice, yet before he could speak horns sounded at some distance, and the sound of cheering echoed through the camp.

"What is going on?" asked Arya, reaching for her sword.

"Good fortune, that was a Silvan horn if I ever heard one," said Loras, rising to his feet and stowing his pipe.

"It must be Lord Glorfindel and Lord Círdan… let us go and welcome them," said Jon eagerly.

"At last, I feared they would never return," mumbled Loras, rising to his feet.

"Perhaps it would be best if I retired for the day," said Jon, "Dany, Arya, we might go hunting for Orcs as recompense for my actions last night,"

"Alas, that you could brother, but you are the Herald of Anárion. To not attend the council would be a grave insult," Loras said with a smile when he saw Jon being pressured by his two women.

"Aye, you speak rightly brother, come then let us be off; the sooner we speak, the sooner we might", grumbled Jon, glancing between the two in apology.

"Yes, come on…" said Daenerys happily, snatching him from Arya's clutches and strolling towards the pavilion.

"Damned Dragon," said Arya angrily.

Loras laughed. "It seems you have been bested by a dragon Arya," he said. "A pity I'd wager Jon might have spent the day with you had Círdan not returned."

Arya said nothing, and without warning, she swept his legs from under him, and he fell headlong into the mud.

"Oh, by the Valar! That hurts you, fool." cried Loras, struggling to his feet, armour stained in mud and grim.

"Tis no more than you deserve, flower boy, said Arya. "Now be silent! We've to attend another council because you thought to bore us to death," 

"Spare me from the stubbornness of Starks," grumbled Loras. "Let us hope this shall be quick; if we debate any more, I fear the next Age shall come before we bring the enemy to battle."

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(The Last debate)

They entered the pavilion and saw that the council had begun in earnest as the Lords of the West spoke amongst themselves regarding the fate of the Silvan troops; Jon said nothing and took the seat that had been set aside for him; all had come save Rhaenys and Galadriel, and he wondered where they might be, this was answered a moment later when his loves entered the tent together.

As she and Rhaenys saw him, they smiled, though their countenance turned sour as Arya glowered at them and clung to him tightly.

"Arya…" said Jon reproachfully.

"Welcome, Lady Galadriel," said Gil-galad, nodding.

"It is my pleasure King Gil-galad...King Elendil," said Galadriel kindly.

"My Lady," said Elendil, bowing low.

"Lord Glorfindel and Lord Círdan have returned," said Galadriel.

"Yes, with their return the council is complete, and we might get down to business," said Gil-galad.

"Now the Elves have returned, shall we march?" said Isildur interrupting.

"The siege engines are not ready, we've little lumber on hand, and I fear we shall run out before we can build three", grumbled Magni dismayed.

"Do not trouble yourself, Magni..." said Elendil. "We knew well the troubles we should face, and we shall make do with what we have."

"Indeed, Sauron is no meagre foe, and we should not expect such a siege to be uncomplicated", seconded Elrond, "If all else fails, we may be forced to march east and enter Mordor from behind,"

Galadriel stepped forward. "Do not despair, my Lords... help shall come when we have need of it,"

"My star... have you had a vision?" asked Jon.

"Yes, my wolf long has a great power slept in those woods, and by some stroke of luck, the Enemy has issued a challenge that must be answered," Galadriel said solemnly.

As they spoke, a servant came forward and knelt, "Lords Círdan and Glorfindel have returned with Amroth, King of the Goldenwood,"

"Let them pass," said Gil-galad.

The servant nodded and pulled aside the tent flap. Glorfindel entered first, and the others followed; his master was wearied beyond hope, his silvered hair flecked with blood and shining mail spattered with mud, Círdan and Amroth fared no better, their faces marred by small scratches, tabards torn; it seems they had ridden as wolves were at their heels.

"Alas, my wolf, such is the fate of those who heed the call of vengeance; let us hope that these two might rule better than their fathers," said Galadriel.

"They are poor fools, my Star and in their madness, they have lost a much…" said Jon, his heart heavy with grief.

"At last, Glorfindel and Círdan come... and Prince Amroth, or shall I name you King?" said Gil-galad reproachfully, and Amroth hung his head in shame, still grieved for the loss of his father.

"We grieve with you, my Lord, Amdír was a good king, and his death shall be mourned by all of Elvendom," said Galadriel, her voice kindly and sweet.

Amroth passed his hand over his eyes, brushing away the tears. "Thank you for your words, Lady Galadriel and you as well, Gil-galad!" he said. "I shall ask forgiveness for my father's words and deeds he led us in folly, and in folly, we have suffered such hurts as to never mend," 

Thranduil fell into a chair and put his head in his hands. "I shall curse the foolishness of my father for many ages to come," he said and fell silent. After a moment he spoke again thickly, as if struggling with tears. "Yet too shall I mourn him, for he shall never walk under the eaves of the Greenwood again nor see his grandson blossom."

"There shall be time to mourn, but we must press on the enemy has dealt us a grievous blow, and we shall answer in kind," said Gil-galad.

"My King, I have done as you bid and rescued those whom I could. But, alas, I ask you pardon our tardiness; we have ridden with great speed and little rest," said Glorfindel, bowing low. 

"Late is far better than never, old friend, now tell me your tale and leave nothing out," said Gil-galad, pouring himself a goblet of miruvor.

"As my King commands," said Círdan, taking a seat beside Glorfindel.

And so Glorfindel and Círdan recounted all that had happened in the marshlands, and the days that followed; they spoke of the battle, the folly of Amdír, and the valour of the Silvan and the cruelty of the Orcs. 

"They were thick as flies on dead flesh, such as I have never seen since the battle of Gondolin," said Glorfindel. "I'd wager that Sauron planned to draw the Silvan into a trap, knowing they could not repel such a large host,"

"Cruel was our fortune," said Círdan. "Though we have won, I weep to know our kin must be laid to rest among the mud and mire, never to return to golden eves in spring."

"Despite our losses, my people shall not flee... our hearts are true and spears keen," said Amroth with the fire of malice in his eyes.

"I suppose that now your men will want to fight with forged weapons instead of wood and iron?" said Durin, glancing at King Amroth, who nodded.

"Of course, it would do us little good to cling to such traditions now," said Amroth, eyes heavy with grief.

"That's another problem… We still don't have enough weapons for everyone since the armies of the Greenwood must be girded as well," grumbled Durin, thumbing his axe belt.

"Alas, grim fortune, we've yet to set foot in the Black Lands and have suffered greatly for the folly of others," said Elendil grimly. "Let us hope we shall not be drawn into such a battle again, or Sauron shall bleed our armies dry."

"We must not lose hope, my Lords! We have suffered a defeat, but we are men of fierce valour. Sauron fears our comradeship, for he is nought but a Lord of slaves; we must stay true to each other," said Jon, his voice high and proud.

"Prince Jon is right, our Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all here remain true." said Galadriel, and with that word she held them with her eyes, and in silence, looked searchingly at each of them in turn.

"My lady?" asked Lord Glorfindel.

"Do not despair, my lords," said Galadriel solemnly. "I believe the cruelty of the enemy shall not go unanswered," 

"Lady Galadriel speaks truly; the burning of the Gardens shall not go unnoticed," said Círdan, his eyes gleamed with a bright light, glinting as he gazed at them all.

"Have you seen what has come to pass, old friend?" asked King Gil-galad.

"Yes, my King, the wind carries the stench of death and treachery, and I'd wager those who held this land dear shall soon learn of what has happened," said Círdan.

"Wiser council, you will not find, though I pray to the Highest that this help comes sooner than late," said Elendil, taking a draught of water.

"I agree..." said Elrond, pouring himself a glass of elvish whiskey.

"Must you two speak in such riddles?" Rhaenys asked curiously.

"Take heart, Rhaenys... I'm certain we shall soon find out," grumbled Glorfindel.

"So what shall we do now?" asked Magni

"I will send messengers to my Kingdom to provide a store of arms for those Silvan who wish to bear arms.... it won't do for your kin to lose more than what has already been given", grumbled Durin. "But I shall expect them returned when the war is over," 

"Dwarves..." grumbled Thranduil.

"I thank you on behalf of the Goldenwood and my people, master dwarf," said Amroth with a grim smile.

"Isildur, likewise, send messengers to our men south and have them send whatever arms might be spared," ordered Elendil.

Isildur nodded. "I shall, father," he said. "Though we must do so under cover of darkness lest the enemy discovers our purpose and takes the horde for himself."

Jon was about to speak again when a young elf ran into the tent, eyes wide in amazement.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" growled Gil-galad.

"My Lord... You must come at once...The most ancient ones...They have wakened and draw near," cried the elf before rushing from the tent.

Upon leaving the tent, they saw the land had changed where before the scarred land had lain, there now a forest loomed. Great trees drawing nearer rank on rank, with tangled bough and hoary head; their twisted roots were buried in the soil.

"What's happening?" asked King Elendil.

"The trees... they are moving!" Loras cried aloud.

"No, they are not trees, Loras... rather those who have guarded the forests ere the Elves came out of the West", said Círdan, his countenance between wonder and joy.

"Shall we go and greet them?" said Arya, gazing at Jon in amazement.

"It's not necessary... it seems they have spotted us," said Jon, spying near forty Ents striding towards them.

"Who's coming?... What's going on?" asked Rhaenys in confusion.

"The Ent's... are marching," said Galadriel, her eyes glittering in joy.

"Take heart, my friend's such splendour has not been seen since the Elder Days", said Lord Círdan, eyes gleaming with tears.

"Let's go and greet them then," said Elendil, following after the elves.

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They all gathered on the edge of the camp and glimpsed far to the north Fangorn, yet it seemed the forest was drawing nearer, and then a mighty call rang out like a deep-throated horn from the woods, and seemed to resound from the trees. Far off there came similar cries from many directions that were not an echo but an answer. 

He turned and saw that Galadriel was now standing beside him, a look of joy on her face. "Courage, my wolf... you shall see the true splendour of Yavanna," she said. "No man since the days of Hador has seen such a sight."

It was then they saw them striding forth from the forest, wooded giants with none sharing similar appearance some as different as one tree-kind from another, as birch from beech, oak from fir. There were aged Ent's bearded and gnarled like hale but ancient trees and young ones too who seemed as flowering trees. Altogether there were about two dozen coming from the forest, and as many more were marching in.

The Dwarves and Men seemed taken by a sudden fear and raised their weapons in warning, and the Ent's halted in their march, glaring at them with great anger; Jon went pale with fear, wondering if the Ent's would think them responsible for the burning of the Gardens yet by fortune Galadriel's voice rose above all the din.

"Lay down your arms, my Lords... they are not our enemy unless we wish them to be," said Galadriel striding forth to greet the Ent's.

At last, they stood before the Eldest and largest of the Ent's, and Jon found himself looking at a most extraordinary face. It belonged to a large Man-like, almost Troll-like, figure, at least thirty foot high, very sturdy, with a tall head, and hardly any neck. Whether it was clad in stuff like green and grey bark, or whether that was its hide, was difficult to say. The lower part of the long face was covered with a sweeping grey beard, bushy, almost twiggy at the roots, thin and mossy at the ends. But at the moment Jon noted little but the eyes. These deep eyes were now surveying them, slow and solemn, but very penetrating. They were brown, shot with a green light.

"Hrum, Hoom," murmured the Ent, a deep voice like a very deep woodwind instrument. "Elves, Men and Dwarves together, how strange! Tell me, little fellows, why do you travel in such strength?"

"By the Valar..." Loras said with his mouth open.

"Greetings, Great Shepherd of the forest," said Galadriel, bowing gracefully. "I am gladdened to see you in good health, though I hadn't thought you would rouse the Hurons so soon."

"Welcome and well met, child of Eru. Indeed, we hadn't thought to rouse ourselves so needlessly, yet I saw the smoke rising from the South and wished to investigate," said the Ent.

"May we ask your name?" asked Jon excitedly, to the astonishment and shock of his people while the Ent looked at him confused as if he were a squirrel that learned to speak.

A queer look came into the old eyes, a kind of wariness; the deep wells were covered over. "Hrum, now,' answered the voice; "well, I am an Ent, or that's what many have called me. Yes, Ent is the word. The Ent, I am, you might say, in your manner of speaking. Fangorn is my name according to some, Treebeard others make it. Treebeard will do."

"It is an honour to meet one so aged and wise," said Jon, bowing low.

"Hmmm, you seem to be Elvish, yet your speech bears the nobility of the House of Hador," said Treebeard, peering at him with interest.

"What do you mean, Shepherd of Trees?" asked Jon, but Treebeard paid him no mind, instead turning to Gil-galad.

"Well, met Gil-galad, we did not look for your coming, less so expect to find you leading such a host; why have you marched so far from fair Lindon?" said Treebeard.

"We seek to enter the Black lands of Mordor though I shall ask in kind why have you come so far south, oh eldest one?" answered Gil-galad.

"We are looking for the Entwives... They are gone, and their gardens are in ruin; do any among you know where they might be? Have they yet gone south to till the lands there? It is a queer business that they should let their gardens come to such an end," said Treebeard, eyeing them with distrust.

"Oh venerable Shepherd, my heart is heavy with grief that I should be the one to speak of such evil tidings, but we know not if the Entwives live, in his malice, the Lord of the Dark Tower has defiled the Gardens of your wives, hoping to deprive us of aid," Lord Círdan said while the trees were shaking violently and the Ent's were beginning to speak among themselves in a language Jon did not know.

"Cruel are your words, child of the stars... I pray this is nought but cruel jest," growled Treebeard, his great head swaying to and fro in rage.

"Cruel are my words of great Shepherd, but not false," said Círdan and the Ent's stamped and beat upon their flanks. It was as if the fury of nature had been roused and come to take vengeance for all growing things.

"We know the wicked master of the Dark Tower and recall in ages long past when he was nought but the servant of a Lord crueller than himself, yet it seems the lieutenant wishes to supplant the master..." bellowed Treebeard, eyes alight with fury. "Craven, I name him, wickeder than the Great Enemy, a lord of fire and ash who shall know the wrath of Yavanna!" 

"Then march with us...," said King Elendil.

"The Ent's have not marched to war in a long count of years, and never have we marched alongside Dwarves and Men," said Treebeard.

"I ask your aid, noble shepherd!" cried Jon, bowing before the Ent. "You are the children of Yavanna, wise beyond reckoning; even you must know that the fires of Mordor will spread, and the forests of Fangorn and the Greenwood shall burn. The Lord of the Black Lands has a mind of metal and wheels; and he does not care for growing things. You must defy his malice lest all that is fair and good be destroyed just as the gardens of your wives."

Treebeard rumbled for a moment, as if he were pronouncing some deep, subterranean Entish malediction. "You speak nobly for one so Mannish, yet there is something of the Elves about you as well; very well then; we shall call an Entmoot and resolve if the Ent's must march to war" 

"Thank you... Shall we come back tomorrow?" asked Jon, meeting the great shepherd's wisened gaze.

"Don't be hasty... young fellow, these things take time," said Treebeard, and with that the Ent turned and strode back towards the forest, to take council among his kin.

Notes:

thanks to great_red